Why then the world’s mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.
Pistol in Merry Wives
Horoscopes for 3-21-2023
- 3/20/23 Sun enters Aries at 4:25 PM
- 3/21/23 Moon con. Neptune 25° Pisces
- 3/21/23 New Moon. 0°49’ Aries 12:23 PM
- 3/24/23 Pluto enters Aquarius
- 3/25/23 Mars enters Cancer 6:46 AM
It’s a lot to digest.
Add structure. Simple, special birthday missive, and it helps with everything that shakes loose, as Mars continues to apply a tiny bit of tension, just enough, but not too much, and then, the relative motions of Saturn and Pluto? Easiest way to handle this? Best way, from what I’ve seen? Apply structure. Maybe not a formal and rigid structure, or maybe it is. Sort of varies from individual to individual, but the idea to add a formal outline, a definitive plan of action, a step-by-step guide, something that resembles order. A ‘Project Planner’ set-up? Sure that works. There really aren’t that many moving parts, but some of this has to be done in a specific order, and that’s the idea of added structure. There’s a deeper thought about structure, nightmares, meditations, and how to work with all of this, but I don’t have enough space to explore all the ideas. If only there was way? “Add structure.”
When I ran my own photography weblog, it was, for years, a single image posted every day, and when I was running it? My simple goal was an image, a digital photo that I captured, no fancy filters, no framing, and no posing. No posturing. Nothing arranged. I wanted to learn more about framing images, and the original goal, goes way back a trailer park, and fishing every day, I used cheap cameras, before those were all supplanted with phone cameras. Still, an organic image instead that posed, primped, and postured picture?
The difference, and this becomes more evident, but the difference? This is about what’s a posed picture, artfully arranged, properly positioned, and what is a random image. Most of my fish pictures are totally random. Most of my digital images, all of them, are rapid and random. What I learned was posing, posturing, and artfully arranging creates a superior image but takes more work. I’m too lazy to expend that effort, and for Taurus
? You have choices, I would suggest you spend the extra time to prune, plump, and pose the products before you snap the shot.
It’s been many years since I started an active (and passive) meditation process. In part, though, sitting (standing) at a keyboard, and tapping the keys themselves, that’s a form of meditative communication with myself. With that in mind, the meditative process for dear Gemini
, in one form, or another, that’s what is required. I prefer, being from a “non-eastern, non-internal” background, I much prefer some kind of active process for meditation. Like, the number of words on page, or the miles I walk, something like that — some aspect of this that I can measure. The way the skies light up, a myriad of data points, and lots of stellar action, a pile of influences to weight against each other, the best course of action is just that: action. Motion, movement, to some, this may seem like directionless agitation and pointless movement, but in my mind, and the mind’s eye of Gemini
? It’s a form of active meditation. Works, and works best to keep what was unearthed, keep that momentum.
Mars is a like a little extra icing on the cake of life. The Moon Children’s
Cake of Life. Yeah, like that extra dollop of icing — not exactly expected, but them not unexpected, either, just an extra dose of sugar, confectionary delight that burns bright them burns out. Yeah, the corner piece of the cake. The corner piece of the cake with the extra scoop of icing the delivers more punch and fortifies the Crab-like Cancer
with an extra amount of frenetic energy.There are several factors, but it’s easiest to hang this all on Mr. Mars, as he’s here, and he’s as simple a culprit as any. Blame Mars for the instant burst of energy that suddenly, like the sugar crash from that delicious icing on the Cancer’s Crab-like
cake? Up, down, and we can easily blame Mars. Ride
it out. Or, grab the reins, the harness, the rope wrapped around its belly, and hang tight. Mars will be here for a while, and this is just the start. It’s like giant sheet cake, and we just got started with that extra icing on the corner.
“Your nickel, your call.” Simple idea, yet, holds much for the future of The Leo
. It’s about choices, and letting whomever thinks that he or she is in charge? Letting that person assume the mantle of responsibility. “Your nickel, your call.” Another way I heard this? “The golden rule,” and it is further explained, “The person who has the gold makes the rules.” Way I see it, someone else is footing the bill and since that other person is paying the way? It’s that person’s decision about where, how, the resources are spent. I know, and you know, the The Leo knows best
, but that doesn’t mean anyone besides me is listening to what The Leo knows
(best, The Leo
knows best.) I’ve warned you about the lack of appreciable listening skills in the current, non
audience. Aware that this is a problem? Simple comment can save you a lot of trouble.
“Your nickel, your call
Less spontaneous. Simply put, the thematic element for long-term Virgo success
? Less spontaneity. No, seriously, Virgo dear
, less last-minute decisions, and more of that rather Virgo-like
command structure that starts with, “First of all, the plan (instructions, guides) say we should do this.” Stick to the plan. Less deviations, fewer detours, less, well, “We are unsure of the proper route so we just headed in that direction…” That direction is the setting sun, and the setting sun is in the west. You wanted to head east. Can be a problem. Which, if we go back to my original guideline for “Saturn in Pisces, for darling Virgo
,” the suggestion was a simple, “Less spontaneous.” Look: great idea. Has a time and a place where it yields excellent results, that spontaneous idea, direction change, or just inspiration for a new, better way. Yes, works well, but not for Virgo
, not starting now. Stick with the original plan you laid out.
April First is around the corner, but in Libra Land
, we have to ask, “Hasn’t it been like this all year?” I can dredge up a Shakespeare line, or modern poetry reference
, but what I liked best? Most emblematic? A “0” card, the Fool
from the more modern tarot images. My favorite was always the one bookstore in Arizona appropriated for their bookmark
logo, Changing Hands
in Tempe, AZ. It was a slightly altered variation of the Rider-Waite
image. While ostensibly a Mercurial Fellow, I prefer to think in terms of Uranian energies. It’s an image of a guy with all his belongings packed in a small ditty, slung beneath a staff, over his shoulder, and he’s smelling a flower as he is about to step off a cliff. Between now, and then, there’s a certain leap of faith required of Libra
. The Fool, in my understandings, is both an innocent youth, and the wisdom that comes from making an effort. Personally, having stepped off that cliff myself, and hoped a parachute would appear? I would take a different route, but that’s me, and I’m not Libra
I love Aries
. There’s a frantic, frenetic pace about them, all in haste and passions that seem to run “over the top.” Aries is a “Mars” sign, as is good Scorpio
. Therein is the problem as that kind of Aries-style
of energy starts to infuse decent Scorpio
. That hurry-up, and speak-what’s-on-my-mind-with-no-filter, and bubbling-enthusiasm. All of that. But look: Saturn and Mars are going to make nice, and that means you can get something out of this, if you don’t hop on that Aries-Mars-Rocket
that spits out truths, as you see it, at the moment. A more pointed, a more directed, a simpler way to approach this? Pick and choose. Stop long enough to double-check your good Scorpio self before
you let Mars and Saturn spit something out. There’s a longer-term benefit here, and it’s about making careful choices with a distinct eye to the future of Scorpio
rather than trying to hastily fix a broken situation. We’re thinking this is a longer-term situation
. Not just yet. Maybe we should just go fishing this week?
It was maybe a month back, little longer. Scene from the South Side of San Antonio, a bus stop and there were two women, waiting. In my aged and embittered mind
, it was two girls, dressed for “I don’t know what,” but it was short skirts and flimsy, possibly revealing tops. Because this was a fleeting image, I never had a chance to understand. Coming home from a night out? Seemed too bubbly for that. Headed out for a day downtown? Again, no data points to say for sure, but it was bitterly cold as the north wind hustled in with that Canadian air export, and the motions indicated that the two were cold, both huddled in thin hoodies. In my mind, in my Sagittarius mind
, I made up stories. Other than a casual glance, I have no real information, but I could spin this a number of different ways, and all kinds of meanings, and all with no supporting information — whatsoever
. I sometimes consider myself fabulist, and this was perfect example of my lineage coming from a long line of raconteurs. No supporting evidence whatsoever, so this image is presented as it is. What our Sagittarius selves
should guard against? Taking a single image and then manufacturing a whole story with no supporting evidence.
There are two parts, one is instantaneous relief. The other part? It’s that persistent, niggling little itch from Mars. Actually, the Mars momentum is exacerbated by the Sun in Aries
— just adds a tiny amount of consternation. Not confusion, but either free-floating anxiety or minor irritability, both of which are looking for a spot on Capricorn psyche
as a touch point. The overall promise is of relief, but the off-camber corner between the Sun and Mars makes this still a little touchy. Realize that your Capricorn nerves
might be a little raw, and that it’s but a fleeting influence with an overall image of relief, just around the next corner.
This is the age of Aquarius
, and this is the inception. Starting point. One mystic I greatly respect suggested the New Age started in 1904. Astrologically, I’ve seen a number of different terms bantered about, 1987 (Neptune/Uranus in Capricorn), 1993 (Pluto Sagittarius), Y2K (computers), 5-4/3-2000 (7 planets in Taurus), 2012 (Mayan End Count). In the Age of Pisces
, the predominate religions used a fish as a symbol. Aquarius
is the sign of the Water Bearer, often depicted as a woman with two vessels of water, and a stream. Pluto is the Lord of the Underworld, an agent of great change, and pressure. Planet, dwarf planet, or just an asteroid, I don’t care. You will feel its effect, over the course of the next few years. Next few years? March of 2042. Got to deal with Pluto and its influences. Gradual, sublime, revolutionary, and earthshaking, and yet, in Aquarius? Revolutionary. What it means? Stay tuned, we’ll explore this over the next few years. Helps to have someone who’s “been there,” as alluded to, previously.
There was a group, I was loosely affiliated with, and the group’s idea? Consider the term: “group think,” their idea was to charge crystals the in light of the full moon. It’s both modern witchery, techno-shamanism, and time-honored traditions of following with the phase of the moon. However, if I were an observant person, I’d want less of that Full Moon energy, and more of the new moon, good intentions, get that stuff hammered into place. Which is what this is about. As Aries
begins in earnest? Time to get that long list of good intentions, wishes, dreams, and creative visualizations all into a specific place. Get it together, as there’s a way that a decent Pisces
can manifest just about anything, and that solar-lunar passage, plus the other stuff? Pluto slipping into Aquarius? Just adds to the power. Use it. I’m still not really on board with “charging your crystals in the full moonlight,” but that might be me.